


A good pair of socks

by TheMissingMask



Series: Explorations [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, Socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissingMask/pseuds/TheMissingMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flint can't find a matching pair of socks</p>
            </blockquote>





	A good pair of socks

“My grandfather always told me that the key to a successful day’s work is a good pair of socks…” Flint overturned a small wooden box with frustration. “So how the fuck does anyone get anything done when the goddamn things refuse to remain in pairs?!”

The captain was currently storming through his quarters in a state of half-undress, one foot happily clad in a clean white sock, while the other left bare to stick to the warm wooden floor. Silver sat silently on the cot, following the raging man with his eyes.

Flint rummaged through a nearby crate, kicked it over for good measure upon finding it devoid of socks, and proceeded to look under a pile of papers.

“They are sold in pairs.” He looked under the desk again.

“You purchase them in pairs.” Hunted through a chest.

“So why in holy hell do they not remain in pairs?!” He threw an offending red sock aside in frustration, where it joined an equally angering brown sock that had been located early in the excavation.

At that moment the captain’s eyes finally passed to his quartermaster, but he immediately had look away as a wave of guilt washed over him. He bit his lip and fumbled with his hands for a moment. Eventually Flint stood and took up the red sock, going to sit beside Silver on the cot.

The other man’s eyes never left him.

Flint pulled the red sock to cover his bare right foot and Silver finally spoke.

“They don’t match.”

Flint reached for his boots and continued to dress, never looking up.

“When we entered into this matelotage, we vowed to share equally all our problems.” He stated. “It seems only a logical extension that we too share equally our non-problems.”

They both frowned and took a moment to contemplate the legitimacy of the word Flint had just invented. Upon deeming it acceptable, they simultaneously returned their attention to each other.

“Finding matching socks will never again be a problem for you. Were it possible, I would see that made untrue. But as I cannot, I will join you in this ‘non-problem’ of yours.” He finished buckling his boots and stood with a smile, offering a hand which Silver took gladly. Together they departed the cabin, hands slipping from each other only as the door shut behind them.

It was moments such as this when Silver became acutely aware of the reality that he was more whole now than he had ever been with two legs. The fact that he had never actually given a damn about whether or not his socks matched was, at this moment, irrelevant.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so there wasn't much exploration here beyond Flint's wise grandfather. Sorry about this! It is the product of being in work at 6.00 this morning and noticing that my socks did not match. And, yeah. Nothing wrong with odd-socks! :)


End file.
